Spoils of the Battle
by Obscure Storm
Summary: After the Battle of Muirthemne, Cuhulainn's warriors flee into the surrounding forests. Morrigan observes their flight. *Former English Project, and Celtic Mythology. Sorry for any misconceptions. This was the only place suitable for it. Please R/R.*
1. Flight from the Battle

The fields of Muirthemne. Blood covered grasses wavered on the unsteady wind. Broken bodies bare to it's unforgiving breath. The final battle, Cuchulainn's death. Those who survived, ran. Every man took flight into the dense forests. The carrion birds picked over their brothers. Chained to the large, grey stone stood the body of Cuhulainn. His eyes glazed over in death. The paralyzing curse had taken his final breath. Wind tousled his dark hair. The rough cloth of his tunic whipping in it's merciless grasp. A raven perched on his shoulder. It's beady eyes watched the retreating forms through the trees. Victors joyous in their win. They wiped the blood and sweat from their brows. Weapons were sheathed. They had won. The enemy was defeated. Through whose power, they knew naught. Black ravens wheeled in the air above them. Awaiting the signal to begin their feast. A fierce cry arose from the largest of them. Digging it's claws deep into the frozen flesh of the warrior, it pecked rapidly at his open throat. Consuming the flesh piece by piece. It's black feathers speckled with the thickening blood. The bird's sharp beak dripped with the deep red liquid. En masse, they descended upon the grisly field. Wicked talons tore through the cloth covering the bodies. Carving long furrows into the cold, unfeeling flesh. A shadow darkened their feast. Their seeming leader had taken to the sky. Golden beams of sunlight cascaded across the raven's gleaming feathers. Soaring above the tree-tops the raven watched the retreating warriors. Shadows lengthened on the cold ground. The bird's harsh voice called out again. The small, fur clad forms halted at the sound. Without a second thought, they sprinted blindly ahead. Hoping to get away from their persuer. As futile as it was. The evening sun drenched the forests in a night-like shadow. Lighting on a high branch, the raven watched a life unravel. It's blood soaked feathers drying in the chill air. A well trained eye focused on two beings below. A warrior and a young maiden.  
*** 


	2. Possession

Leaves clung to her pale gold hair. The hood of her light blue cloak trailed down her thin back. Soft fur lined the beautiful garment. Piercing blue eyes stared at the tall man before her. A young maiden this one was. She had not yet seen many seasons. Her pales features held a certain command. An air of livelyness. A great wife this one would have made. She stood stockstill in the presence of the warrior. The choice of whether or not to run had yet to enter her thoughts. Shock had etched itself onto her beautiful face.   
  
Blue tattoos snaked across his skin. A member of Cuhulainn's company. The coldness of his stare held many deaths. Battle scars wound their way across his bare flesh. Knife slashes, spear thrusts all had left their mark.. And none of their owners had seen the light of the next dawn. Long braids fell into his eyes. Deep, auburn brown locks fell upon his shoulders. The whisper of Mare tainted his ears. Desire raged in him. To possess that beauty. Make it his.   
  
His hand reached out to caress her soft skin. She shuddered against his touch. Not daring to move. The waning sun cast it's light through the branches of the trees. A stark pattern falling on the two figures. The warrior grasped her wrist roughly. The gentle curve of her lips arched in a gimace of pain. Tears sprang unbidden into her clear blue eyes. A smirk traced it's way across his features. The cold fire in his eyes flaring with her every struggle. She would be his well deserved prize, the one Cuhulainn could not give him.   
  
His hand held tightly to her frail wrist. The well developed muscles in his arms barely contracted. He pressed closer to her. Their bodies barely touching. She closed her eyes tightly, whispering a soft prayer to her Goddess. Moving in closer, he brushed his lips over hers. The young woman tried to pull away. The sadistic smirk grew into an inane smile. Running his work roughened fingers along her jaw, he tilted her face towards his. The warrior's dry lips caustically pulled at her's. Muffled screams issued from the young woman. The press of his mouth to her's stifling the protest.   
  
Pulling at her lengthy skirts, he forced her against one of the ancient trees. It's bark held her up. He tore at her furiously. The cloth fell to the forest floor with a sigh. Cold night air brushed across her naked skin. Only the comfort of the fur-lined cloak was left to her. The warrior forced her to comply with his needs. He thrust into her vigorously, tearing away her innocence.   
  
Like a hare in a hound's mouth she writhed against his touch. The rough bark bit deeply into her back. She felt him tense against her. Mare's gift ready to be bestowed. Clawing with her nails she continued the futile struggle. From it's vantage point in the tree, the raven beheld these actions.   
  
*** 


End file.
